Murderer, Savior
by Vherstinae
Summary: A new recruit into the Aldmeri Dominion is assigned to sabotage the Imperial ambush on Ulfric Stormcloak. When that fails she is drawn into a battle for the fate of the entire world. Her loyalties and prejudices will be tested, even changed...
1. As the Scrolls have Foretold

A/N: Yep, getting out another new plot bunny as I careen toward the publication of my first novel. I'll post info on my profile once it's ready. Again, none of my stories are abandoned; life and my own wandering imagination just get in the way. If you love a particular story, it will be completed…eventually :\

Disclaimer: As is usual, I'll only post this once, since it's unlikely to change. Bethesda Softworks and its subsidiaries own the Elder Scrolls series and all in-game characters. The plot is, for the most part, also theirs. I'm only adding in my own character and adjusting the story at some points.

**1: As the Scrolls have Foretold**

The quartet huddled together in the snow, un-tanned bear pelts their only protection from the frigid conditions as they shared body heat without regard to what sexual connotation their positions might suggest.

"Tch! Xadam, watch your elbow! That fringe is pointy!"

"Piss off," Xadam replied from somewhere in the pile. "If you expect me to go into battle less than fully armored, you're dumber than you look."

"Then quit jamming it into my thigh!"

From the bottom of the pile, a feminine baritone interjected, "Lavis, Xadam, if you don't stop bickering I'm going to come up there and crack your heads together."

At the top of the pile their scout, and the group's only Wood Elf, added his two cents. "Trust me, you don't want to see Niniereh mad."

Lavis bit his lip, not wanting to aggravate the biggest and scariest of their group. Niniereh was taller than most male Altmer and her musculature rippled in her training leathers, though the iron plate she wore now covered much of that. She preferred entering battle with a heavy blade in one hand and a fistful of Destruction magic in the other. Despite how new she was, none of the others had any inclination to anger her.

"Let's just go over the plan one last time; make sure we've got everything in hand," Xadam said to break the silence.

"Alright," the Bosmer replied, "we are radicals from the Aldmeri Dominion, unsatisfied with the surrender. We're trying to cripple Skyrim and the Empire alike with one decisive strike."

"Quite the backstory for one attack," Lavis quipped. "What, is our commander a frustrated playwright?"

Lavis received a reply in the form of an iron-clad hand cracking him in the forehead. "Shut up and listen," Niniereh cautioned.

"Our objective," the Bosmer continued in an irritated tone of voice, "is to foil the Imperial capture of Ulfric Stormcloak. We need this war to continue, or the Empire could rebuild its power base and challenge the Dominion."

"So they sent us?" Xadam quirked a brow. "Wouldn't master Justiciars work better?"

"We need to be unknowns," the Bosmer replied. "In case we get caught, we can't be recognizable."

"We won't get caught," Niniereh said decisively.

Their scout rapped on Lavis' helm, signaling them to be silent. Their targets were approaching.

The moment the Imperials leapt on Ulfric, the quartet burst from their hiding place and charged into battle.

The fight was over in minutes.

Ulfric's use of the Voice threw the elves into Imperial arms. The Imperial soldiers simply mowed through the Aldmeri ambushers: Xadam and Lavis were dead before they hit the ground, filled with arrows. Their Wood Elf scout was run through with a sword. Niniereh's heavier armor saved her from a similar fate; better still, her lack of a uniform appearance with her fellows made it difficult to tell if she had been with them or simply an Altmer traveler. After all, combat is chaotic. Perhaps it was luck or fate that a horse thief blundered through the ambush site as the battle ended, lending credence to the idea that Niniereh was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Regardless, the soldiers bound the unconscious High Elf and stripped her of her armor. One of the female soldiers cut up a burlap sack and placed it on the elf like a tunic when the males on both sides couldn't stop gawking at the large woman's curves.

Niniereh awoke on the road, some Nord imbecile speaking to her. She mostly tuned him out, trying to get a bearing on where they were. She cursed under her breath when she realized they'd not only bound her wrists but also tied her hands closed so she couldn't channel magic. The Nord said the place was called Helgen, not that she cared. To Nin all the cities in Skyrim looked alike: worthless snow depositories.

Niniereh's eyes widened when she saw her commander, Lerutix, speaking with the Imperials' general. Surely he could save her from this. She was being treated as a civilian, just an unlucky woman drawn into a fight. He could exercise the Dominion's power and save her, give her another chance. Nin shrugged her soft burgundy hair from her eyes as the cart bumped repeatedly before stopping. This was it, she could go home.

Lerutix never called for her release. The jailer – a Nord! – was more interested in her release than her fellow Altmer. The commander stood at the sidelines as she was called to the block. Niniereh lost it. She screamed, pulled against her bonds, thrashed at her captors and Stormcloaks alike. It took three large men to drag her, kicking and swearing in the Aldmeri tongue, to the chopping block. Forced down and finally realizing that she was helpless, Nin's screams turned to sobs. Her tears intermingled with the freezing blood of the slain, creating clean rivulets through the bloody neckrest.

The killing blood never came, though with what happened next Niniereh wished it had. A dragon, a beast from the oldest tales, attacked. The entire village, the entire Imperial garrison, was helpless against the monster's onslaught as it tore through fortifications with ease. Niniereh derived some small, brutal satisfaction from seeing Lerutix's bloody corpse as she ran for cover. The Altmer hated herself for having to cower with the xenophobic Nord soldiers, hiding within a small archers' tower as the earth shook around her. She spat onto the ground and charged up the tower's stairs, looking for some other way out. Nin found her way out easily enough, as the dragon burst through the wall and doused the entire upper floor of the tower in searing flames. Niniereh dove for cover, tumbling halfway down the stairs as the flames licked at her heels. As the monster departed to seek other prey, Niniereh charged out of the hole it had created and dove through the shattered roof of a nearby house. Tumbling expertly, she fell through a burning section of flooring to the dirt below just in time to watch the jailer from earlier rescue a child and an old man from the dragon's flames. The man cared for others; had he not been a Nord, she could have respected him, but such a brutish people deserved no respect from the Aldmeri Dominion. The Nord offered to protect her. Niniereh's mind took several seconds to process that: she was a prisoner, slated for execution, yet he was willing to risk his life to save hers. On top of that she hailed from the very nation against which his people had warred.

"What is your name?" she asked in a whisper as the dragon hung over the wall behind them, incinerating all in its view.

"I am Hadvar," he replied, patting her on the shoulder as both a greeting and a signal to move. She effortlessly kept up with his pace, her greater height and powerful build making up for her restraints and exhaustion. All around her Helgen burned, the Imperial soldiers scrambling to protect the civilians.

Nin followed Hadvar to the keep, encountering the Stormcloak from before – a man named Ralof – and both entreated her to follow them. Niniereh heard neither argument, however. She stared at the dragon, completely mesmerized at the carnage the monster wrought. It then landed before her, looking her straight in the eyes, and began to speak. Hadvar and Ralof had both run into the keep, sheer terror overcoming their senses. The beast stared at her, and in return she stared at it. They remained this way, sharing some manner of connection, for an unclear amount of time before the Imperials attacked the monster again. The spell broken, Niniereh picked a door and ran inside. She nearly crashed into Hadvar, who was bandaging several burn wounds from the dragon's sweeping attacks.

"I can't believe it," he muttered. "Was that really a dragon, bringer of the end times?"

Niniereh shook her head, looking through the various leather armors for something heavier. "Considering what it did to this village, I'd say yes." She turned to him, offering a brief smile. "My name is Niniereh, by the way."

Hadvar opened his mouth to reply but no words came. Nin shed her burlap garb, her curvaceous and lithely muscular frame shamelessly exposed for several long seconds as she strapped on a set of Imperial heavy armor. Her golden skin and amber eyes seemed to glow in the torchlight and her wine-colored hair only served to enhance her almost predatory appeal. Flames danced in each of her hands before she doused her magic, donning a pair of swords just in case. "I'm ready to go," she nodded as she fastened the last strap on the decorative helmet.

Hadvar returned the nod, finding his voice again. He had seen women in less clothing, to be certain, but none who were simultaneously so appealing and intimidating. What had truly struck him dumb, however, was the businesslike way in which she had stripped. The nonchalance hit him harder than her exposed body had. "I'm almost ready. I want to finish dressing these burns before we move, or I might end up a liability."

Niniereh gave a military salute and began sifting through the barrels for anything worth taking. "So where are you from? I might as well get to know my rescuer."

"Riverwood," Hadvar replied as he rubbed salve on his calf. "It's a village a little ways north of here. When I joined up with the Legion I was stationed in Falkreath, to the west. And you?" He shook his head at the absurd casual nature of the conversation, considering all that was going on.

"Summerset Isle," she replied. "After the war I decided to wander, learn about the world. I'd actually been planning to join up with the Dominion before all this. Not so sure now. Nearly dying and seeing a mythic beast tends to put things in perspective, you know?"

Hadvar nodded, bandaging his calf and strapping on his boot. "You should consider joining the Legion, at least temporarily. If the Stormcloaks have themselves a dragon, only General Tullius can stop it."

"What makes you so certain it's the Stormcloaks'?"

"I don't believe it to be coincidence that the dragon attacks only once Ulfric is captured and only goes after Legion soldiers. Plus, Ulfric has the Voice, the tongue of dragons. Maybe he can call one."

"You have a good point," Niniereh replied as they started down the hall.

Hadvar held up a hand in the universal military sign for silence. "Shh, Stormcloaks. Maybe we can reason with them…"

There was no reasoning to be had. The moment the pair passed into the next room, the Stormcloak soldiers gave battle cries. "Damn the Dominion and the Legion to the depths of Oblivion!"

Hadvar drew his blade but Niniereh had no patience for a fight. She grabbed the two enemy soldiers by their faces and unleashed a gout of flame from each hand, tackling the bodies to the ground and continuing to burn until she was positive they were dead. "Are these people mad? There's a dragon destroying everything and they're focused on petty grudges?"

Hadvar shook his head. "I don't know what to say. I can't understand how my fellow countrymen have drifted this far from the Empire." His next thought was interrupted by Nin looting the bodies. "Have you no shame? Leave the fallen be!"

The Altmer shot him a withering glare. "Look, you want to live, you do what it takes. You might have family outside these walls, should we escape, but I have nothing. Whatever gold and valuables I can scrounge up here, that's all I have, period. If you don't like it, look away."

Hadvar worried his bottom lip but looked away, ignoring the sounds as Niniereh rolled the bodies and even removed their fur armor.

"Alright, let's get out of here. I'd hate for you to have risked so much just for us to die now."

Hadvar nodded and followed closely as the keep rocked around them, the sounds of the dragon's assault grating on his conscience as he thought of all the lives he'd failed to save. He just had to hope that the life he'd managed to rescue could help make up for his failings.


	2. A Kind of Rebirth

**2: A Kind of Rebirth**

"Alright, I'm finished," Niniereh said, stalking toward the tower's gate and fiddling with the lock. She cursed under her breath and punched the iron bars with a gauntlet-clad fist. "Aedra damn the luck! Locked up tight!"

Hadvar looked over to her and saw that the bodies she had looted were arranged in preparation for an honorable burial, eyes closed and arms folded. He smiled, albeit a bit sadly. "Thank you, Niniereh."

The elf clicked her tongue. "Wanna thank me? Get this door open so we can get out of this place before the dragon brings it down on us."

Hadvar nodded, rifling through his uniform's pockets for his ring of keys and opening the door. "I know this keep well, but the dragon's been shaking it to pieces. Stay close and I should be able to get us out."

No sooner had Hadvar given his warning than the pair rounded a corner and were staggered by the entire keep quaking. A small squad of Imperials dashed through the hall only to scream in agony and terror as the ceiling fell upon them, crushing them into paste. Nin winced, looking away. Hadvar, on the other hand, didn't blink. They were Imperial soldiers who knew the risks when they joined the Legion. His only regret for them was that they didn't get the chance to defend their people.

The Nord held up a hand to silence his elven companion. They could hear panicked voices through a nearby door and Hadvar could recognize that such confusion would likely come from someone not acquainted with the keep. He nodded and gestured to Niniereh to go first, knowing how destructive the Altmer could be.

Nin stepped in and was immediately spotted by the pair of Stormcloak soldiers who were trashing the large storeroom in search of healing potions. They charged her, screaming battle cries and curses against the Thalmor and Legion.

The tall elf lunged at her attackers, her swing rebuffed by the massive hammer her target swept at her. She caught the hammer on the side of her head, crying out in pain as the world turned red and swirled before her eyes. Hadvar leapt into the fray, drawing attention from Niniereh as she dropped to the ground, blood leaking from her eye and temple.

It was all a haze for her, the world moving like in a dream. Hadvar was a good fighter but he couldn't take both frenzied soldiers at once. From her crumpled position on the floor she could see him faltering, beaten back but refusing to fall. Before she realized it Niniereh was on her feet again, legs pumping beneath her though she felt as if she were gliding. She summoned her people's ancestral knowledge of mind magic and launched a scintillating orb of reds and white at one of the Stormcloaks. The moment it struck he roared with animal madness and struck out at his comrade.

In the confusion the elf snatched up her blade and ran through the frenzied soldier, casting his body aside as Hadvar grabbed the other from behind and sliced open his neck. The Legionnaire smiled his thanks at Nin, nodding around. "Looks like they converted this into a storeroom. Let's see if we can find some potions. I presume you need one right now?"

Niniereh shook her head, yellow radiance igniting in both her hands. "Not really," she said as her wounds knitted shut. "We Altmer have magic to spare. Wouldn't like to repeat that little escapade, though."

Hadvar opened his mouth to reply but flinched as the entire keep shook. The rumbling of the stone spurred Nin to loot the barrels and shelves, storing away what few potions she could find. "We should get going," he said at long last. "I'm not sure where this door leads, but we can't stay here."

"I second that sentiment," the elf replied as she pushed open the door. The pair headed down a slope, picking up the pace as they heard more fighting.

"The torture room," Hadvar noted grimly. "Gods, I wish we didn't need this place."

The torturer and his assistant were locked in combat with more Stormcloak soldiers, but the fight ended quickly once Niniereh and Hadvar joined in. As Hadvar argued with the torturer, Niniereh paced around the chamber and collected various items, unapologetically bumping into both the old man and his assistant. She used some lockpicks she'd found to open the prisoners' cages, looting the body of a human mage – a Breton, most likely. Pocketing a book that looked valuable, Nin decided she'd finally had enough of the rank-pulling bickering. "Alright kids, either whip 'em out and see whose is bigger or just leave the fossil!"

The assistant seemed to agree with this sentiment, pushing past his mentor. "Forget the old man. I'll come with you."

The elderly torturer muttered something snide and went to looting the bodies.

Now a trio, Niniereh and Hadvar dashed through the halls of the keep, descending ever lower, led by their newest comrade Thodar. "The keep's carved out of the stone here. We have running water so there has to be a way out, though I've never been that deep," Thodar commented. He was about to continue when the claustrophobic halls suddenly widened into a massive natural cave filled with singed Stormcloak fugitives. Two archers immediately took aim from an upper platform as at least four heavily-armed soldiers rushed the trio.

Looking to even the odds as best she could, Nin launched a Fury spell at one of the archers to remove the rain of arrows from the equation at least temporarily. Having burned a lot of magic with that illusion she drew both swords and rushed at her opponents, an iron-clad maelstrom of blades. With the Nords at her back she quickly felled the xenophobic rebels and took the archers' gear.

Thodar pointed ahead to a drawbridge. "Lower that and we can get into the natural caves here. I'll–" He was cut off by the earth shaking from the dragon's relentless assault. "…Damn it all, I'll never forgive myself for abandoning my post if anything happens. You two go on ahead. I need to go check on the old man."

Hadvar frowned but nodded, both he and the elf offering Thodar a salute. As the torturer's assistant headed back into the keep, Hadvar pulled the lever for the drawbridge. "Come on, Niniereh. We need to get out of here."

Despondently Nin followed behind Hadvar, wondering how many more good men and women would die in this nightmare. She was momentarily struck by the fact that she'd thought of the barbaric Nords as men and women the same as Aldmeri subjects. Her introspection was cut short by the sound of cracking stone. Niniereh barely had time to look up and see a boulder hurtling down at her. She lunged as best she could, desperately grabbing for any handhold out of the rock as the drawbridge shattered beneath her. She scrabbled against smooth stone, tearing off fingernails and spraying blood until Hadvar threw himself down and managed to catch her. He pulled and she pushed and eventually the two were on stable earth once more. The elven woman panted heavily, casting more healing magic to fix her fingers. "Thanks," she managed to gasp through gulps of air.

"Think nothing of it. You'd have done the same for me," Hadvar said casually. Pushing himself off the ground he paused to look around for conceivable exits. He hazarded a glance back and saw that the drawbridge's cavern had completely collapsed. "I hope Thodar made it out alright…" He turned back to Niniereh, who was still on the floor. "And are you alright?" He offered her a hand up.

The elf gladly accepted, standing on shaky legs. "That marks the fifth time today I've barely escaped death. It's…starting to wear on me."

"I can imagine. Come on, let's get out of this place and then we can go meet my uncle." Hadvar led the way, Nin picking up the rear and rifling through various piles of rubble. "Your uncle?" she asked as she plucked a Septim from a skeleton's ribcage. "Yes, he's the blacksmith in Riverwood, my hometown. I haven't been back for, gods, nearly a year now. I'm sure he'll offer us a place to stay."

Niniereh blinked. "You're offering me to stay with you?"

"Of course. We've saved one another's lives enough that I think I can count you as a friend. And as a friend and comrade-in-arms, I invite you to come stay with my family. After all, you said yourself that you have nothing else here besides what you could scrounge."

The elven soldier smiled, a surprising warmth settling in her chest. That warmth immediately dropped out, along with her stomach, when she saw what monstrosities descended in front of them. Gigantic spiders, the smallest the size of a fighting dog and the largest rivaling cows in size, skittered up toward them, hunger and animal malice shining in their eight black eyes.

Niniereh was dimly aware of a woman screaming in abject terror. She hoped that she could rescue this person, but first she had to deal with these abominations. Only the adrenaline in her veins and her refusal to die helped her to fight back. She didn't dare close on the beasts with her blades lest they sink their fangs into her; instead she hosed the spiders down with flames.

As the last one died and the blood pounding in her ears came down from its rolling boil, she realized that the desperate scream was coming from her mouth. Dousing one of her hands, Nin clamped it over her lips to muffle herself until she managed to calm a bit. She practically jumped out of her skin when Hadvar spoke.

"Ngh, I take it you don't like spiders?" He removed his hands from his ears. His answer was Nin's jittery shaking of her head, exaggerated by necessity since her entire body was quaking with leftover adrenaline and panic. Nin held out one of her arms, the limb quailing like a tree branch in a storm. "P-please, lead me out of here. Please…"

Hadvar murmured soothing words his mother used to say to him when he was afraid, gently massaging Nin's neck and shoulders as he led her down the path. "I've got to say, I've never seen someone react like that. You look now like you'd been frozen in terror but you just, well, annihilated those things." He chuckled, then added some sincerity. "I'm glad you're alright, Niniereh."

"C-call me, me, Ni-n," she stuttered through chattering teeth.

The Nord smiled. "Alright, Nin."


	3. Dovahkiin

**3: Dovahkiin**

Riverwood was a town like any other, with its local characters and love triangles, small-time dramas and family spats. Hadvar's family had been extremely accommodating for Niniereh, offering her use of the house's bed during the day. They didn't have much but were willing to share what they had. After trying her hand at smithing her own armor (passable, according to Hadvar's uncle Alvor, but not necessarily good), the elf determined to get herself some supplies. She walked across the central road to the Riverwood Trader.

The moment she opened the door she was nearly floored by a shouting match. A male and female human – husband and wife, perhaps? – were screaming at one another about thieves. Nin loudly cleared her throat. Her tall frame looming in the doorway quieted the spat.

She walked to the counter and jingled her coin purse. "Sorry to interrupt your little war but I'd like to do some business."

The man nodded, clearly embarrassed. "Oh, of course. Welcome to the Riverwood Trader. I'm Lucan Valerius. My sister Camilla and I are the owners and founders. We–"

"Save me the spiel," Nin cut him off. "I'm in no mood to be schmoozed. I just have some things to sell and to buy. I need money and supplies badly."

The Imperial's eyes brightened, immediately putting Nin on her guard. "W-well, if you need coin, perhaps you could help me. We recently had, erm, a break-in. The thieves only stole one thing, something very important to me: an ornament, solid gold, in the shape of a dragon's claw. I'd be willing to pay you handsomely if you could get my claw back."

Nin arched a burgundy eyebrow. "How much, and where'd they go?" The answer was five hundred Septims and the thieves were headed to Bleak Falls Barrow. She couldn't pass up that much coin. After selling the looted equipment from Helgen, Nin headed off for the barrow, Camilla acting as her 'guide.'

The climb was steep and irksome, fraught with bandits or mountain psychopaths or whatever they might be. The barrow proper wasn't any better. More bandits, huge rodents the Nords called skeevers, and walking dead commonly referred to as draugr.

Niniereh recognized those last monsters from their description in the book she'd taken from Helgen, _Songs of the Dragonborn_. According to the Nords' legends, draugr were once humans who served the dragons and revered them as gods above the aedra. They were cursed with undeath, condemned to never be able to reach the Nord afterlife of Sovngarde; when they finally were felled their souls would simply dissolve. She didn't know if any of that nonsense was true, but the creatures were certainly undead.

The deeper she delved, the more a familiar sensation of utter dread filled her. Thick webbing covered the stairs and ruptured egg sacs littered the dark corners. Spiders…why did she have to face those abhorrent beasts again so soon? She considered just turning back, forgoing her payment. But no, she couldn't afford to turn down five hundred gold pieces.

A voice drifted through the webbing, calling for anyone to save him. That steeled her nerves. If she turned back now she would have innocent blood on her hands. She burned through the thick webbing, charged in…and nearly passed out when she saw the size of the eight-legged monster that descended to confront her. Again an unearthly wail issued forth from her lungs. She raised both hands in defense, hosing the creature down with twin jets of flame. Too quickly, however, she felt her magic fading and the creature still approaching.

Niniereh's piercing fear unlocked something within her. She tapped into her race's mighty affinity for magic, eyes shining the blue of unrestrained magicka. She felt power surging through her veins, a sensation akin to her heart pumping magma. Her reserves restored themselves in mere seconds and she roasted the creature, taking sick satisfaction in the horrible crackling sounds its innards made as they boiled and ruptured its exoskeleton. She stood triumphant, exulting in her victory over her most feared enemy.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get me down!" The voice cut through her reverie as the Dunmer squirmed in the webbing. "Don't leave me up here, for Arkay's sake!"

Nin clomped over, body feeling heavy after that fight, and drew her sword. She hacked apart the webs and her fellow mer fell to the ground. He was up again in an instant, though, and…bolting away. "Fool! Why should I share the treasure with anyone?" He was the thief! Niniereh saw red, only further incensed as she realized that she'd never catch him. So instead, she launched a Fury spell at him. Her accuracy was impeccable and the Dunmer spun around with bloodlust etched in his features. He came screaming at her and received a sword through the throat for his trouble. Disgusted, Nin took the thief's satchel and hurled the body across the room.

In the satchel was the claw, along with a hand-bound journal with the name 'Arvel' written on the cover. She decided to inspect the journal to see if the Dunmer had been hired by someone.

The journal spoke of the claw being some sort of key to a lock called a word wall, but supposedly no one had ever been able to figure out how to open these doors even with the claw. Apparently old folklore said that when you had the claw, "the answer was in the palm of your hand."

Niniereh picked up the claw and turned it over to inspect what would be the palm on an elf. There were three blank circles on the claw. She snorted. "How's this supposed to–" Before her eyes, shapes swirled into view within the circles: a bear, a moth and an owl. "…I'll be damned." She stowed the claw and ditched the journal, delving ever deeper.

Niniereh found her way into the depths hindered by numerous deadly traps and patrolling draugr. From spring-loaded walls of spikes to swinging pendulums coated with ancient offal, the contraptions were as sinister and ingenious as they were high-maintenance. Apparently the creatures didn't just spend time rotting in their burial vaults, they actively worked to prevent further incursion. Thankfully the draugr were little threat. Their papery flesh and mummified tallow made them burn like hay bales.

Eventually, however, Niniereh came to a large set of double-doors that opened to an entirely different chamber. The walls, floor and even ceiling were carved smoothly as though by a master artisan's hands, rather than by rudimentary stone carvers'. The walls were covered with ancient pictograms, each lovingly carved, telling a story she couldn't quite make out. The design reminded her of the Blades' historical tapestries and carvings. And there, at the end of the hall, was the famous word wall: three circles stacked above a slot for the claw.

As Niniereh approached, the blank circles on the door swirled into view just as they had on the claw. After a little experimentation she figured out how to rotate the concentric stone rings so that the symbols matched the claw. She then plugged the golden claw into the slot and turned it, feeling it click. She pulled it back with a start when the entire door began to sink into the ground. Cautiously she stepped over the new threshold and up another finely carved staircase that opened into a large cavern. Nin could swear that she heard…chanting.

The elf drew her blade and approached a strange carving, smooth gray stone in a slight crescent. The stone was nothing like the surrounding rock; it was as though it had been somehow implanted into the earth. The chanting grew louder and louder as she approached and then the light all around her began to dim. The wall, covered in hideous slashes, started to blur until a single pattern of scratches stood out in blue. The scrapes flowed off the stone and into her eyes – no, into her mind. She could feel it: it was a word, booming in her ears as clearly as the dragon had spoken: "FUS!" The chanting became celebratory for several seconds before it faded away and the world turned back to normal. Nin staggered, shaking her head. "…What in Oblivion was THAT!?"

She had no time to contemplate. The large sarcophagus behind her burst open, a heavily armored draugr dragging itself out. It waved a large axe menacingly and then rasped out a shout: "FUS RO!" A burst of pure force impacted Niniereh, nearly blowing her off her feet. She solidified her stance and then charged, not wanting to give the monster a chance to capitalize on her momentary disadvantage. With one hand she spewed fire and with the other she viciously swung her blade. The undead seemed completely unfazed by the flames and the sword did little more than irritate it.

Gripping its axe tightly, the draugr put its entire body into a vicious swing that caught Nin in the side and pierced clean through her iron armor. The axe head bit into her flesh, the pain of the cut compounded by agonizing frostbite seeping in from the weapon. Niniereh staggered back, one hand instinctively trying to cover the wound in her side as blood spilled over her fingers. The thing came at her again and she barely managed to parry, losing her sword in the process. The third swing she managed to dodge, hissing in pain as her wound flared in protest. She drew a small dagger that she'd collected earlier on the off chance it might be valuable, severely irritated that she didn't have anything bigger. Niniereh backpedaled while dousing the draugr with the last gouts of flame her magicka could produce.

"If I go down, I'm taking you with me!" Nin flipped the dagger, holding it underhand, and lunged at her foe. The draugr was unprepared for someone with the elf's size and mass to tackle it. The pair crashed down the steps that led to the sarcophagus' dais, Niniereh tearing off the draugr's helmet in the process. They came to rest with Nin on top. She gripped the dagger with both hands and drove it into the monster's head and eye sockets over and over again while it clawed desperately at her. Finally the beast stopped moving; the light faded from its eyes.

She staggered off of the corpse, healing herself with what little magicka she'd managed to regenerate, and wandered back up the steps to investigate further. First Nin looted the large, decorative chest beside the draugr's sarcophagus. Next she retrieved a large, odd stone covered in the same slashed markings as that wall.

"The wall," she said aloud as she turned back to look at it. "That door wasn't the word wall. Stupid Dunmer. This is the word wall." Nin staggered suddenly, gripping her side as icy pain lanced through her. "Ngh…right. Need to go lay down…" She hobbled up a conspicuous ramp and opened a secret door, making her way back to Riverwood.


End file.
